


how long can we keep this up, how long til we call this love

by damnmechanics (emmamanic)



Series: Song fics [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy-centric, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmamanic/pseuds/damnmechanics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and I try to keep my distance, say I love you when you're not listening</p><p>songfic challenge- distance, christina perri</p>
            </blockquote>





	how long can we keep this up, how long til we call this love

**Author's Note:**

> requested by bellamysanchor (tumblr)

-

Bellamy wakes up to sunlight every morning. It’s something he’s still not used to, even after a year on the Earth, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever really get used to it. It makes his tent look like fire, all golden and bright, and he often walks outside to see the ground glowing, and can never sleep in because why would he want to miss this?

Of course, there’s also the fact that there’s another golden force in his life that likes to watch the sunrise, but he tries not to think about that.

It’s been harder lately, pretending he’s not in love with her. How could he not be- she’s the most living thing in his entire world, the most bright, the most shining. There was a time in his life he didn’t think he would ever grow to care for anyone besides Octavia, but God, how wrong was he.

Anyway, it’s harder for Bellamy to pretend he’s not in love with her, especially since she started sleeping in his tent. He remembers the day she walked in with her arm around her jacket and a cot that she pushed up against the tent wall.

"What are you doing?" he said, evenly, because there’s nothing he wouldn’t trust her with, but...

"Moving in." she said it resolutely and he shrugged.

"Your call, princess." She looked up at him then, almost like she was expecting him to argue and Bellamy gave Clarke the tiniest nod, bringing his chin up, and she nodded back, smoothing her hands on the bed and walking back out without another word.

It’s harder because everyone has night terrors, everyone, and sometimes he’ll wake up in the night with her gasping for breath, half-shouting, and he’ll have to jump out of bed to hold her shaking fists and to tell her to breathe. It’s even worse when he wakes up with a blonde sheet of hair over his cot, eyes wide and pink lips whispering his name in an effort to calm him as he’s snapped out of sleep.

Despite how hard the closeness is, he has to admit it’s convenient. They ignore the rumors that spark up, the one or two that fizzle out fast, because who gives a shit. He knows where to find her and that’s enough for him.

Bellamy’s life has been a series of disciplines. First, protect your sister, then, protect your people, now, protect your princess. He’s disciplined, has to be, so he starts to keep his distance from he when he can.

It’s the small things, but they help. He stops fucking other girls, because it only makes him think of her. He stops standing next to her when they have meetings and starts volunteering for watch. They’re small things, and no one really notices, but they help the pain in his chest disappear, at least a little. Stay away from your princess and you’ll fall out of love with her. Then, of course, it all falls to shit.

"Bellamy."

The voice is quiet and it’s late, late at night, but he knows it’s her. At first, he’s terrified, because it means she’s dreaming about him, and God forbid she has a nightmare about him because then he’d completely lose it-

"Bellamy."

She isn’t scared, doesn’t sound scared, she sounds… content. Happy. She lets out the name like a sigh for the second time, and then she’s quiet, and thank the stars because Bellamy probably would have lost it if she said his name like that one more time.

The next morning, he doesn’t say anything about it and she doesn’t look at him any more then she used to so he brushes it off and repeats his mantra to himself.

He hunts a lot, too. Joining the hunters helped, because it’s hours where he can breathe and he’s in the woods, the safest place he can think of. The peace treaty lasted this long, and the thick of the forest helps conceal them from watching eyes above. Shadows cast on high trees is glorious, bringing the whole forest to it’s knees.

Sometimes he hears her in the trees, but he tells himself that’s just his imagination.  
One day Clarke comes with them, on the hunt. There’s a herb she needs to get that’s on the way and going with the hunters is the safest thing she can do- he vouches for her.

They’re in the middle of the forest when she realizes she needs to split off, that the hunting party is going the wrong way, so he volunteers to go with her. Of course. As if he would trust anyone else.

So they walk through the woods, together. He’s reminiscent of the trip when they found the bunker, and they fall in step easily as the sounds of the forest envelop them.

"Does it feel like this all the time?" she says, a step ahead of him.

"Like what?" he answers, voice gruff without use.

"Safe," Clarke’s voice is captivated. "It didn’t used to feel safe."

"You haven’t been out here in a while, have you?" Bellamy has a lightness to his tone he’s not used to.

"Not this far, not since the treaty," he remembers. After an unlikely peace with the grounders, and their people in Mount Weather had been rescued, there was little Clarke Griffin could do to get out of camp. With the sheer number of people needing help, she was swamped.

"I miss it," she continues, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Maybe I should have been a hunter." he laughs at that, but ducks his head to avoid eye contact.

"You could do both," he comments as he hopes she turns back around.

"Because being a healer and leader doesn’t take up enough of my time." She’s joking, he knows, but it’s a heavy kind of joke, the one that’s not really a joke at all.

They’re in step again and he keeps stealing looks like she’s some kind of drug.

Goddamn, he is in too deep.

"You could stop sleeping."

"You know I don’t sleep." She’s got a laugh in her voice. He looks at her then, and catches her eyes, for the first time in weeks. They furrow, just the slightest, confused when they meet his. Bellamy coughs and looks away, trying desperately to cover up the pupil dilation and thumping heartbeat.

"Isn’t this the stuff you needed?" he says, pointing towards a bush of a plant he knows isn’t the medicine.

"No, it’s a bit further on." Clarke shakes her head and trudges on. Bellamy follows in comfortable silence.

-

Bellamy hasn’t dreamed of anything but her in weeks, and it’s becoming a problem. Her closeness is something he never thought he’d have to account for and it’s making his head spin. And one day, he says he’s moving out.

"What the hell, Bellamy?" Clarke’s voice is accusatory.

"There’s more than enough tents now," he points out.

"Not enough for people to have one to themselves," she shoots back. "Where will you go?"

"Miller, Octavia. I’ll find someone." Bellamy hardens his voice.

"But you don’t need to," Clarke says, steadfast. "Why?"

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a moment, for fear of giving himself away. 

“It makes the most sense,” he says finally, argument weak.

"What, do you want to start bringing girls here?"

"No," he says it too quickly.

"Fine," she says, turning away. "Whatever."  
She picks up something he doesn’t see and walks out of the tent. Bellamy watches her leave and groans.

"Shit."

Bellamy doesn’t bother moving out.

-

"Get down!" Bellamy shouts over gunfire. Goddamn, this wasn’t supposed to happen again, this was never supposed to happen again, this war… clearly, Mount Weather was willing to fight for life.

There’s a loud crack to the right and he turns, terrified, because that’s where he last saw Octavia. He catches a glimpse of her and runs over, dodging the fallen and picking her up easily like he used to all those years ago.

"Where’s Lincoln?" He shouts and she points weakly with her finger, shaking her head. He looks over and sees him, face down and shaken. Bellamy runs over and lets Octavia down gently, shoving Lincoln over until he can see that he’s alive, heaving. Lincoln pushes himself up and shakes his head, putting a hand to his temple, where there’s a long red gash trickling.

"Keep her safe." He yells, shaking the Grounder, who looks him in the eye and nods. Bellamy waits long enough to see him help pull up Octavia and help her get to safety, where the rest of his people are trying to escape through the forest. It’s madness, but he pulls his gun off his back and runs back to be offense.

Priority- get everyone out. Bellamy’s head screams this as he grabs his people by shoulders, arms, right and left, telling them to get out. There’s no way they can even come close to winning this war. It’s working — their escape — but he keeps running because he knows not everyone is safe yet.

He sees Monroe, on the ground, surrounded by blood, oh God. He drops to the ground and pushes her over, but he can’t tell if she’s breathing or not and he swallows bile pushing at his throat. Suddenly, Clarke’s there, and he’s shouting.

"Clarke, get out!" He yells, loud, but she’s not listening to him.

"You can’t save her," She says, half crying and pulling on his arm, hard. "You need to go help the others, you need to go-"

"That’s where you need to be!" Bellamy’s screaming, and he grabs Clarke, pulling her up and pushing her against a wall as a fireball lands where they were half a moment ago.

"Almost everyone’s out, Bellamy!"

"Not everyone!" He’s furious because she’s not leaving and she cannot die here.

Bellamy pushes Clarke towards the others and runs out when there’s a blast and suddenly he’s falling, falling, and there’s screaming and it’s dark.

-

-

-

"Bellamy!"

And everything is bright again, and he’s still in the center of the battle. His head aches and there’s blood gushing from him somewhere, but Clarke is above him and that’s all that matters.

"Can you hear me?" She says, frantic, and he blinks and she breathes out heavy. "Can you stand?"

He feels slow and heavy but he tries, pushing himself half-up until she can put his arm over her shoulders and stumble out of the line of fire. He’s falling in and out of consciousness, but they make it to the tunnels where he feels Clarke drop him to the dirt. It fills his hands as he grabs, handfuls of the stuff, trying to steady himself.

"Stay alive for me, okay? Just stay alive." She says, and starts to disappear into the tunnel walls as it all goes dark. He knows she’s safe, Octavia’s safe, and honestly, death doesn’t sound so terrifying right now.

"I.. I love you." It comes out as a mumble but he says it, he’s finally said it, and he lets everything fade out as shouts surround him.

-

Bellamy wakes up to sunlight filling a canvas tent. It’s dark and he’s not the only one in it, but it’s safe and he’s not dead, so it’s good enough for him.

He stands up, bringing a hand to his chest as he realizes how sore he is. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the battle and he doesn’t know what’s happened in the outside world. The tent flap opens and Abby walks in, startled when she sees him up.

"How do you feel?" She says, walking over while wiping her hands on a cloth.

"Alive." He says, grunts it, really, and she nods.

"That bad, huh?"

He shrugs and stands up, ignoring her protests. There’s someone he has to see.

Bellamy pulls the tent back and walks out into the blinding sun. The camp is a mess, parts charred and blackened, parts gone indefinitely, but people are walking around and alive. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he sees Clarke, and he’s shot back to the time she first saw him after the fiery haze of the drop ship door closing, only this time, she’s walking to him. She stops in front of him, smiles, and reaches up to give him a hug, just a fierce as before, and it breaks his heart.

He’s having trouble breathing next to her, because it’s all Clarke and alive, all golden and bright and goddamn it, it’s her, it’s always been her.

"How long was I out?" he asks. Neither of them move.

"Three days," she says, grinning, pulling back enough for him to see her face, "but some of that was forced. We have medicine, now, real medicine."

"How’d you work that out?"

"Turns out the people of Mount Weather don’t need us dead, they just need our bone marrow. There’s enough of us to where if we each donate once, they’ll survive," she answers, calm and collected Clarke once again. He almost smiles.

"And we’ll all donate?" 

"We’ll all figure it out." Ain’t that the truth.

It’s peaceful for a split second and then she yells at him because he should be resting (hello, giant gaping hole in the chest, anyone?) but he ignores her with an easy grin.

And call it selfish, but Bellamy doesn’t give a shit about keeping distance anymore, or being reserved or having discipline- he’s fully, entirely, unfortunately, in love with Clarke Griffin.

This startling realization makes him stagger back a step, and since Clarke’s still close to him she staggers, too, and suddenly they’re against a wall and she’s oh so very close to his mouth.

"Clarke-" he starts, but she rolls her eyes.

"Oh, I know."

And then she’s kissing him and it’s everything he knew it would be.

-

Bellamy still wakes up to sunlight every morning. But now, it’s in the shape of Clarke, nestled beside him in cots they pushed together, and somehow, he thinks to himself, this is better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, all, for reading!


End file.
